This pastime proved to be a lot more fun than any of us had anticipated, mostly because of the rules we set for ourselves. Since we agreed to only botch up one out of every ten orders, we have a lot of time to decide exactly which orders will get botched up and how. You see, to keep ourselves covered, we decide that it is best to switch items that either had identification numbers close enough to each other that the error would seem like a simple misreadin', like a 6 for an 8 ... or that were of a similar nature or appearance so it would just look like we pulled the wrong item, like sendin' summer weight uniforms to an outfit requestin' winter weight gear.
My personal favorite was when we sent several cases of Propaganda Leaflets to an outfit that was desperately askin' for toilet paper. It seemed somehow appropriate to me.
Like I say, it was a lot of fun ... so much fun, in fact, I had a sneaky feelin' that it couldn't last. As it turned out, I was right.
The end of the festivities came when I got an order to report to our commandin' officer.
"Stand easy, Sergeant Guido. I've just been reviewing your unit's efficiency rating, and from what I'm seeing, it looks like it's time we had a talk."
I am more puzzled than nervous at this, as we have not been forwardin' the required copies of our paperwork ... mostly because we have not been fillin' out the required paperwork at all. This is confirmed by the officer's next words.
"It seems your squad is not overly fond of filling out the supply forms required by regulations, sergeant."
"Well, sir, we've been pretty busy tryin' to learn the routine. I guess we've gotten a little behind in our reports."
"'A little behind' hardly describes it," he sez, tightenin' his lips a little. "I can't seem to find a single form from your supply depot since you took over. No matter, though. Fortunately there is sufficient cross-reporting to give me an idea of your progress."
This makes me a little uneasy, as we have figured there would be several rounds of requests and admonishments on our negligent paperwork performance before any attention was paid to the actual performance of our jobs. Still, as I am not totally unaccustomed to havin' to explain my actions to assorted authority figures, I have my alibis ready to go.
"Are you aware, sergeant, that your squad is performing at ninety-five percent efficiency?"
"Ninety-five percent?" I sez, genuinely surprised, as our one-in-ten plan should be yieldin' an even ninety percent.
"I know it sounds high," the officer sez, misunderstandin' my reaction, "especially considering that sixty-five percent is the normal efficiency rating, even for an experienced supply crew. Of course, a practiced eye can read between the lines and get a pretty good idea of what's happening."
"Sir?"
"Take this one shipment, for example," he sez, tappin' one of the sheets in front of him. "It took a shrewd eye with attention to detail to spot that this request for winter weight uniforms was actually several months old, and to realize that substituting summer weight uniforms would be more appropriate."
A small alarm started goin' off in the back of my head, but the officer was still talkin'.
"... or take this item, when you substituted cases of these propaganda leaflets for toilet paper. Everybody's heard about the morale problem of that unit, but it seems you not only had an idea about what to do, you acted on it. It's worked, incidentally ... word is, their esprit de corps is at an all-time high since receiving your shipment."
As he is speakin' I am starin' at the leaflet he has shoved across the desk. Now understand, we had sent this stuff out without openin' the cartons, so this is the first time I am seein' one of the actual leaflets. It features a large picture of Queen Hemlock, who is not a bad lookin' broad normally, but looks particularly good in this picture as she is wearin' little more than a suggestive smile. Underneath the picture in large letters is the question: WOULDN'T YOU RATHER BE ON MY SIDE? Though I do not pretend to be a sociology expert like my cousin Nunzio, I can see where this would perk up a depressed soldier.
"... But I'm getting bogged down in details," the officer is sayin'.
"In addition to your shipping efficiency, are you aware that the turnaround time for an order at your depot is less than a third the time it takes to get an order through any other depot?"
I am startin' to see the direction this interview is goin', and needless to say I am not enthused with it.
"That's mostly Private Bee's doin' sir," I sez, tryin' to get the focus off me. "He's been experimentin' with a new organization system in our warehouse ... as well as a new 'reduced paperwork' trackin' system."
"Private Bee, eh?" the officer sez, makin' a note on his pad. "Tell him I'd like to see him when you get back to your unit. I'd like a bit more information about this experimental system of his ... and speaking of experiments ..."
He looks up at me again.
"I understand you've been using civilian transports for some of your deliveries. Is that another experiment?"
"Yes, sir," I sez.
I figure he'll be upset about this, so I am willin' to take the blame. It seems, however, that once again I have misjudged the situational.
"You know, sergeant," he sez, leanin' back in his chair, "the army considered using civilian transports for the disbursement of supplies, but abandoned the idea as being too expensive. From the look of things, though, you may have just proved them wrong. Of course, you should have cleared it with me before implementing such an experiment, just as it was beyond your authority to authorize Private Bee to change established procedure, but it's hard to argue with your results. Besides, it's a rare thing these days to find a soldier, especially an enlisted man, who's not afraid to show a little initiative."
I experience a sinkin' feelin' in my stomach.
"... And if there's one thing an organization that's growing as fast as ours needs ..."
I close my eyes.
"... it's leadership. That's why it gives me such great pleasure to approve your promotion to lieutenant, and ..."
My eyes snap open.
"Wait a minute!" I sez, forgettin' all about the proper modes of addressin' a superior. "You're makin' me an officer??"
My reaction seems to take the officer by surprise.
"Well ... yes," he sez. "Normally we'd require your attending officers' school, but in this situation ..."
"That does it!" I snarl, losin' my temper completely. "I QUIT!!"
Chapter Eighteen:
"Has anybody got a plan?"
-G.A. CUSTER
To SAY THE least, our reunion with the rest of the M.Y.T.H. Inc. team at Big Julie's was somethin' less than a celebration.
Oh, we are all glad to see each other, and our host is more than generous with the wine from his vineyard, but contrary to popular belief, drinkin' does not necessarily improve one's mood. To my experience, what it does is to amplify whatever mood youse is already in ... so if youse is happy, youse gets very happy, and if youse happens to be depressed, youse gets very depressed ... and the unfortuitous circumstantial was that we was not very happy.
There is no gettin' around the fact that we have failed dismally in our efforts to stop Queen Hemlock, and while we could try to convince ourselves that it was an impossible task for five individuals and a dragon to achieve, this is the first time since we incorporated that we have failed to come through on an assignment. Realizin' that it wasn't a real job, as in one we had been commissioned for, but just a favor for the Boss didn't help much ... as, if anythin', we felt worse about lettin' the Boss down than we would about refundin' a client's fee.
"Did you have much trouble getting out of your enlistment?" Tananda was sayin' after we finish explainin' why we are back.
"Not really," Nunzio sez, refillin' his goblet from a pitcher of Big Julie's wine. "Oh, eventually we had to call in General Badaxe to approve it, but after we told him we were on a special assignment for Skeeve, he signed the papers without asking any more questions. The only problem we had was that they really wanted us to stay
... right. Lieutenant?"
He starts to grin at me, then notices from the look on my face that I am not in a mood to be kidded.
"Fortunately," he continues hastily, "the bait they kept offering was to promote us even higher ... which, to say the least, was a temptation we had no difficulty resisting."
What my cousin is carefully omittin' from his report is that the real problem we had with leavin' wasn't with the army ... it was with our crew. Speakin' for myself, I hadn't realized how much they all meant to me until our discharges had been approved and we was ready to say goodbye. I guess it wasn't until then that it hit me that I'd probably never see any of them again.
"Goodbye, Guido," Spellin' Bee had said, shakin' my hand solemnly. "I really appreciate the help you've given me with my magik. I guess I've been so caught up learning the techniques that I've never stopped to think of all the ways it can actually be applied."
"That's nothin'," I sez, feelin' a little embarrassed. "When you get out, look us up and I'll introduce you to the Boss. He knows a lot more about that magik stuff than I do, and I don't think he'll mind givin' you a few pointers."
"Do you really think that would be all right?" Bee sez. "I haven't said anything before, but the Great Skeeve has always been sort of an idol to me. I ... I'm not sure I can learn enough about magik here in the army to where he'd want to bother with me."
"There's magik and there's magik," Nunzio sez, puttin' a hand on Bee's shoulder. "I think he'd like to meet you even if you don't get any more magik training than you've got right now. That was a pretty impressive system you came up with for organizing the warehouse, and our outfit is always on the lookout for ... ah, administrators."
I roll my eyes and he shrugs at me, apologetic like.
The commandin' officer had been impressed with Bee's system ... so much, in fact, that he was bein' promoted and transferred into the task force assigned to improvin' the army's efficiency. Consequently, there was some question in the minds of Nunzio and me if he would ever actually see any further magik trainin' ... which was, I guess, why Nunzio said what he did.
Personally, I wasn't sure we could use Bee if he did show up, as the M.Y.T.H. Inc. operation is service-oriented and therefore doesn't have any warehouses, but I kept this thought to myself.
"Gee, thanks guys," Bee sez, biinkin' a bit more than usual. "Well ... see you around, I guess."
"You guys take care of yourselves ... you hear?" Spyder sez, standin' on her tiptoes to give each of us a big hug.
"Sure, Spyder," I sez, biinkin' a little myself. "And listen ... when you get out ... if you're still interested in joinin' the Mob, you come see us first ... got that?"
"Got it," she sez, noddin' vigorous-like,
"... and stay away from Snake," Nunzio sez, "you want help ... you come to us!"
"Sure thing ... and you guys remember, if you need any help ... well, if there's anything you think I can help you with, you let me know and I'll be there. Okay?"
"That goes for the rest of us too, Swatter," Shu Flie sez, grabbin' my hand and pumpin' it once. "You give the word, and we'll come runnin'."
"I'll remember," I sez. "Just let us know when you all get out. We wouldn't want to interfere with your army duties."
I meant this as a kind of a joke, but they all seemed to take it serious.
"Don't worry about that," Junebug sez, lookin' me in the eye hard-like. "We know where our first loyalties lie ... and you do, too."
Like I said, it wasn't an easy partin'. The hardest part, though, was knowin' that whatever we said about them lookin' us up, the odds were that if they did try, they probably wouldn't be able to find us. As soon as this assignment is over, we'll be headin' back to our headquarters at the Bazaar, and unless they learn how to dimension travel ...
"So what do we do now?" Tananda sez, pullin' my mind away from my memories and bringin' it back to the present. "Pack it up and head for home?"
"I believe there is one more option which I brought up at the beginning of this assignment," Massha sez slowly, starin' into her wine.
It takes me a second to remember, but finally it comes back to me.
"You mean, whackin' the queen?" I sez.
She nods. Then there is a long time when no one sez anything as each of us thinks it through.
"Well," Nunzio sez finally. "I suppose we should give it a shot ... at least then we can say we tried everything before we gave up."
I hesitate a second longer, then nod my agreement.
"All right, cuz," I sez, "you're on. Big Julie, if you can find that gear we stored here before we enlisted, Nunzio and me can ..."
"Whoa ... stop ... HOLD IT!!" Massha sez, holdin' up a hand. "Who said you two were going to be the ones to go after the queen?"
"Well ... it's oblivious, ain't it?" I sez, a little annoyed that my attempt to grab the assignment has been thwarted, but willin' to try to bluff my way through. "I mean, this is right up our alley ... seein's as how it is what we are trained to do."
"... And from what you've said about your disagreements with your drill instructor, that training is geared more toward enforcing than killing."
"Don't you worry about that," Nunzio sez, givin' her a tight little smile. "We're just against unnecessary killing. In this case, it seems that it's necessary."
"Well, when I suggested it, I figured that I was going to be the one to go after her," Massha sez, with no trace of her normal "happy-fat-lady-vamp" act.
"You?" I sez. "Excuse me for pointin' it out, Massha, but though you're more than a little intimidatin' physically, I don't think that physical acts are your forte."
"Who said anything about getting physical?" she sez, holdin' up her ring-laden hands. "You think I wear all this stuff for decoration ... or ballast? I've got a few toys here that should take care of things just fine."
Although she is still a beginner in the natural magik department, Massha held her own as a city magician for a long time before she signed on as the Boss's apprentice on the strength of the mechanical magikal gear she has collected ... most of which is in the form of jewelry. While I have suspected as much ever since we first met, this is the first time that she has confirmed that at least some of her baubles are of a lethal variety.
"Besides," she finishes, crossin' her arms decisively. "I'm Skeeve's apprentice ... so the job falls to me."
"... And we're his bodyguards who are specifically supposed to eliminate any threats to the Boss's well being," Nunzio snaps back. "While I don't doubt your sincerity or the reliability of your toys, Massha, whackin' somebody takes experience ... and Guido and I are the only ones on the team with experience in that area."
"Aren't you forgetting something, boys?" Tananda purrs, breakin' into the argument.
"What's that, Tananda?"
"While you two may be trained and experienced as generalists in controlled violence, part of my background is specifically as an assassin. By your own logic, then, it looks like the unpleasant task falls to me."
"Not to spoil your fun, little sister," Chumley sez, "but I was rather counting on giving it a go myself."
"You?" Tananda laughs. "Come on, big brother, you've still got your arm in a sling."
"What ... this?" the troll sez, glancin' down at his arm. "It's hardly worth mentioning, really."
He pulls his arm out of the sling and wiggles his fingers, then sets his elbow on the table beside him.
"Do any of you want to try arm wrestling with me? Or will you concede the point?"
"Really, Chumley," Tananda sez, ignorin' the challenge, "just because that thick hide of yours is hard to get through ..."
"... Is the exact reason why I'm the logical choice for the assignment," the troll finishes with a smile.
"... Except for the minor detail of your appearance." Massha adds. "Sorry, Chumley, but you're the last of us I'd figure for the assignment. Any of the rest of us could pass for natives, but you'd stand out like a sore thumb without a disguise spell."
"So I
borrow little sister's makeup mirror."
"Not a chance," Tananda sez, stubborn-like.
"... Or I simply borrow a hooded cloak or something for a disguise," Chumley continues smoothly as if she hasn't spoken. "How about it, Big Julie? Have you got anything lying around in an extra-extra large?"
"As a matter of fact," the retired general sez, "I was thinking of doing the job myself."
"What?"
"You?"
"That's ..."
"... BECAUSE," Big Julie continues, silencing us all with the simple technique of raisin' that voice of his to an authoritative level, "because I'm an old man and therefore the most expendable."
We all sink back into our chairs, too embarrassed to look at each other. With these few words, he has gotten to the heart of what was prompting our apparently bloodthirsty argument.
"I've been listening to all of you," he sez, takin' advantage of our uneasy silence, "and what nobody seems to want to say out loud is that trying to assassinate the queen is pretty much a suicide mission. Political leaders ... and particularly royalty ... are the best guarded folks in any nation. Even if you can get to them, which is uncertain at best, the odds of getting away afterward are so small they aren't even worth considering."
He looks around the gatherin'.
"Of course, I don't have to tell you this because you all know it already. That's why each of you is so eager to take the job ... to let the others off the hook by nobly sacrificing yourself. Well, my advice, as your tactical advisor, is to forget the whole thing and go home ... since I don't believe Skeeve ever intended for things to go this far ... or, if you're determined to have the queen killed, then to let me do it. Like I said before, I'm an old man who's doing nothing but idling away my retirement with petty self-indulgences. All of you are contributing more to life, and are therefore more valuable, than I am. Besides," he lets a little grin play across his face, "it might be kinda fun to see a little action just one more time. I never really figured on dying in bed."
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